Thursday, May 10, 2007
Love the one you're with
11:36 AM | Posted by
Warwriter Widow
"We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly."
--From As You Like It (II, iv, 53-56)
Nathan stared out the window, a cup of orange juice in his hand, as the bedroom door opened. Providence came out dressed in her chef's outfit. She no longer had to work, but she liked to still cook. Now she worked in one of the many hotels in Atlas Park, her specialty in creative Creole and French cuisine.
"What's today's special, Prov?" After his first meeting with his counselor on Monday - a three-hour affair that almost made him late for shopping with Fyre - he brought Fyre to Firitio's, where Providence "performed". Nate had Suprêmes de Volaille à l'orange (chicken with orange sauce) and Fyre had Terrine du Jambon et du Veau (Ham and Lamb Terrine).
Providence said proudly, "Homard Henri Duvernois. 'Tis lobster with brandy and cream sauce, served on a trencher."
Nathan smiled, still looking out the window. "Pardon if I skip that."
She walked over to him, hugged him from behind. "'Tis well."
For almost a week they had been together, and by Sunday night it had already cooled to spooning. Sex was fine at first blush. But then there was nothing there, and they both knew it. Now it was mere comfort, touches, and hugs. She cooked for him because she liked to cook for someone; they sat and talked while lying in each other's arms just for company.
He sighed, looked out the window. "Prov..?"
"Aye?"
He closed his eyes to better feel her heat and inhale her scent. "Do you... is this...?" He had to be sure before taking any further steps. "Am I what you want?"
She sighed, leaned on him. "Nay, my heart art not thine."
He smiled, took her hands that were wrapped around his waist. "Nor is mine."
"We find what comfort where we may, Nathan."
He turned around in her arms and held her. "It's not meant to be, is it?"
She rested her head against his chest. "I wisheth."
"Me too. You're a wonderful person."
"As art thou."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Nay!" She looked up into his blue eyes. "Stay until thou must leave. I mindeth not."
"Or until you kick me out?" He smiled.
She stepped back, put her fists on her hips. "I shan't 'kick thee' out. Thou wouldst know when, true?"
He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her patchouli scent. "I would. Go on, off to work." He tapped her backside gently.
"What art thy plans for today?"
"None." He gazed back out the window. "None at all."
--From As You Like It (II, iv, 53-56)
Nathan stared out the window, a cup of orange juice in his hand, as the bedroom door opened. Providence came out dressed in her chef's outfit. She no longer had to work, but she liked to still cook. Now she worked in one of the many hotels in Atlas Park, her specialty in creative Creole and French cuisine.
"What's today's special, Prov?" After his first meeting with his counselor on Monday - a three-hour affair that almost made him late for shopping with Fyre - he brought Fyre to Firitio's, where Providence "performed". Nate had Suprêmes de Volaille à l'orange (chicken with orange sauce) and Fyre had Terrine du Jambon et du Veau (Ham and Lamb Terrine).
Providence said proudly, "Homard Henri Duvernois. 'Tis lobster with brandy and cream sauce, served on a trencher."
Nathan smiled, still looking out the window. "Pardon if I skip that."
She walked over to him, hugged him from behind. "'Tis well."
For almost a week they had been together, and by Sunday night it had already cooled to spooning. Sex was fine at first blush. But then there was nothing there, and they both knew it. Now it was mere comfort, touches, and hugs. She cooked for him because she liked to cook for someone; they sat and talked while lying in each other's arms just for company.
He sighed, looked out the window. "Prov..?"
"Aye?"
He closed his eyes to better feel her heat and inhale her scent. "Do you... is this...?" He had to be sure before taking any further steps. "Am I what you want?"
She sighed, leaned on him. "Nay, my heart art not thine."
He smiled, took her hands that were wrapped around his waist. "Nor is mine."
"We find what comfort where we may, Nathan."
He turned around in her arms and held her. "It's not meant to be, is it?"
She rested her head against his chest. "I wisheth."
"Me too. You're a wonderful person."
"As art thou."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Nay!" She looked up into his blue eyes. "Stay until thou must leave. I mindeth not."
"Or until you kick me out?" He smiled.
She stepped back, put her fists on her hips. "I shan't 'kick thee' out. Thou wouldst know when, true?"
He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her patchouli scent. "I would. Go on, off to work." He tapped her backside gently.
"What art thy plans for today?"
"None." He gazed back out the window. "None at all."
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